


Letters to my Soulmate

by BlueBunny333



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7282723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBunny333/pseuds/BlueBunny333
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little oneshot to an idea that had spread on tumblr but had not been written yet (I guess). Original idea from let-gavin-free with the words: "Soulmate au where when you write something on your skin with pen/marker/whatever the hell you want, it will show up on your soul mates skin as well. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters to my Soulmate

**Author's Note:**

> A little work inbetween, because that one tumblr post made it on my dash again... And of course, it features my OTP !
> 
> (I have no proof reader for this, and since english is not my native language, I want to apologize on beforehand for every mistake I do.)

_Bus 17 1 o' clock_

There was it again, on his left palm - something written in blue ink, rather scrawly but still readable. Dominique tried to wipe it off, scratched it even, but it wouldn't go away. It never did. And if it wasn't weird enough that words appeared on his skin, they were also written in english, and although he already learned the language well, there had been words that he had to look up in a dictonary. Slang. Australian slang.

He had tried to hide it, if he could, got used to wear gloves more often and sometimes even chose to wear shirts with long sleeves on hot days. But it had happen so often over the years, that he couldn't prevented it from being noticed by others.

The first time he had a note appearing had been in his early adult years, Dominique remembered it exactly, and he had been completely confused.

_3_

Just a number, also on his left hand, but on the back, near his thumb. He had washed and rubbed his skin so often that it had been painfully red. But it stayed. It had only disappeared slightly over the days.

A few weeks later, another one had appeared, one he couldn't quite understand. The Frenchman had found it as he was about to shower. About twenty little strokes right under his ribcage, going down a bit to his kidneys. They only stayed for a few hours, but still, he remembered them.

His mother, before she had died, had explained it to him before it even happened to himself. The reason why his father had left them.

Sometimes if two souls who once belonged together are close, their bodies wanted to become **one**.

Not in the way that they merged into in each other or such. But it seems that the sould would try to connect to the other one, showing on its skin what the other one was showing. His father, a normal worker for a canning factory, had suddendly experienced it. Little notes on his forearms - and he had replied. His soulmate was near. And they had found each other.

So he had left.

Dominique just noticed that he scratched his palm to violently, as he already felt how warm blood touched his finger. "Merde."

It didn't happened for two years now, why would it come back, he asked himself. He didn't wanted it to come back. Why did he had to cross his soumates path so often in so many different places. He traveled a lot, had been around the globe, but it seemed that the ghostly writer did so, too. However, in Dominiques job there was no place for a 'Soulmate'.

He sighed and leaned back on the wooden wall. The chapel he had stayed over the night filled with more and more people by now. He had settled himself down on its open attic and could watch the people through the gaps of the wood beams. His target should have already been here and Dominique began to become impatient. Maybe his information about the old businessman was wrong, and he wouldn't visit the church that often. But in this village, he was suppose to live, everyone seemed to be pious, so the Frenchman hoped for the best.  
No name, no contact adress, only a picture. A needle in the haystack.

The best tactic proofed to be to watch well attended places, like churches, schools or bigger restaurants. Places where people would gather, but not wildly run around, so he had time to browse through the crowd.

As his boredom grew he started to flick his butterfly knife open and did some little tricks with it. Not that he was about to use it anyway, this contract was all about information again. Find the person, intimidate him, maybe even hurt or torture him if necessary and get the information your constituent wanted. Simple work of a good spy.

A quick glance over the benches and he finally found his target. The shiny half-bald head was unmistakeable anyway. Now Dominique only needed to wait for the holy mass to end, so that he could follow the man home. A fairly younger woman to his side spoke to him, seemed to be his wife and Dominique wondered if his target had children. Family was always good for negotiation, especially if you got one of them at your mercy.

As the Frenchman leaned over to watch his target he could not help but to notice an unwanted change.

_MILK_

Written in big capital letters, all over his backhand. He really should have wear gloves today.

The holy mass took its time and Dominique's back began to hurt from his uncomfortable sitting position. He had a look on his left palm again, wiped the blood away before it could dry completely and looked at the little blue note. Dominique always wondered why people would write on their own skin. It was nor efficent or more useful than using paper instead. 'Bus 17', that was actually a bus that had a station here in Oakville and he wondered how close they were this time. He had come with the same bus yesterday. 

A sudden wave of noises reached him and he focused on the crowd beneath. The people finally left and the spy silently made his way to a roof exit. Outside he took the aerial ladder to reach the ground and quickly walked near the entrance of the chapel, watching the crowd leave the building and searching for his target. There he was.

About hundred meters space inbetween them were kept as the Frenchman followed the older man to his car. Finally a license plate he could write down-

Dominique took a sharp breath in as he rummaged in his pockets. "Oh no... " With a sudden shock he realized that he had left his little notebook along with a picture of his target in the chapel. A dumb mistake, a beginners mistake! He couldn't believed it and took a quick look around and then back to his target. His targets wife already entered the car and they were about to leave.

But atleast he still got a second pen in his breast pocket and with a frustrated grunt he finally wrote the license plates number down - on his hand.

Why did that have to happen today, he asked himself. Why today, why now.

The car left and he turned to leave too.

 

It was midday by now and Dominique finally could enjoy a cigarette. He had watched his inner handside a few times, hoped that his 'Soulmate' wouldn't notice it before he could write it down somewhere else.

_?_

Not an answer but a reaction, right next to his number. Dominique clicked with his tongue.

His 'Soulmate' couldn't been aware that there was someone that recieved his little notes, that there was someone that was suppose to **their** soulmate. Dominique never wrote on his skin, maybe had done it in his school years a few times, but not in his adult years. This was the first time since a long time. But now, whoever it was, knew it. He didn't want they to know. He didn't want a soulmate.

As he blew out the smoke he noticed something else and somehow he felt his heart drop for a moment.

The bus station was right infront of him. 

If he would wait, maybe, but only maybe, there would be a chance to meet the love of his life. The supposed love of his life, he corrected himself. A quick look on his wristwatch and Dominique got nervous flutters as it already showed twelve minutes before one o' clock. He switched his view between his watch and the station and against his better judgement he decided to lean on the stations sign.

Waiting.

The bus came.

It couldn't possible be exactly that bus. It was ridiculous.

The bus stopped and opened its doors. A few people came out.

His soulmate was probably elsewhere, trying to catch another bus with the same number.

The driver gave him an annoyed look, as the Frenchman wasn't about to enter. He was the only one who waited here.

A quick sign with his right hand and the driver finally understood that he wouldn't enter and the bus drove off. The newly arrived people quickly went their own ways and he was alone again. Of course he was.

Dominique scratched his brow and noticed with a weird relief that the writing on his palm had dissapeared. But he froze immediatly as new letters appeared.

_Blue Pullover_

He frowned. Blue pullover? What was that suppose to mean?

But the spy quickly turned around with a gasp. One of the passengers that had left the bus had worn a blue pullover. Did his soulmate wrote that for him?

Another quick look around before he decided to follow the mysterious person. Dominique was actually a bit angry at himself, ditching his work because of the romantic idea to find a perfect person, but he did it anyway. He never tried to find his soulmate before and right now - it was just too close. He couldn't let that chance slip away.

 

He found the 'blue pullover' in a restaurant nearby and found himself confused again to see a man wearing it. And that man was horrible old. Of course it had been a mistake, the note on his hand probably meant a complete other person.

Dominique was about to leave again as he noticed that someone seated himself infront of the said old man. And that someone was so....- odd looking that he couldn't look away. The man was about his own age, wore mostly leather, an old hat with a knick on one side. He also wore sunglasses indoors which was highly irritating. Dominqiue watched them.

They talked, the older man gave him an envelope and then left, leaving the leather-man alone on the table. The coffe he had ordered arrived and as the odd man gave the waitress the money Dominique finally saw it.

The license plate number. Right under the word 'Milk'.

It was this weird outdoor hillbilly. He couldn't believe it.

And even worse, the man pulled out a pen and began to write something down, this time on his right hand. Dominique quickly turned around the corner, not wanted to be noticed right now and with a sharp breath he opened his own right hand.

_Where are you?_

He knew. He knew what the sudden text on his hand had meant. But Dominique wouldn't answer, instead he left the place.  
Ridiculous. This man was suppose to be his soulmate, but Dominique was not attracted in the slightes way. And why a man? Sure, in his job he had to seduce both genders sometimes, but the spy never thought about it further, never really saw himself as bisexual. Sedcuing men had been just part of his job. He wasn't interested.

Dominique reached the bus station again and passed it quickly. He couldn't help but to look on his hands again.

_Where are you?_

Straightforward asking for his current location. No questions to his person, no questions about what was happening here. Ridiculous. Dominique finally arrived at the chapel again, climbed the aerial ladder and searched for his belongings. He wanted to leave and get his job done.

_Are you in Oakville?_

His right backhand now had a nother question, rather small and nearly unreadable. Stop searching for me, Dominique thought, as he left through the roof exit again. In about five minutes he could take the next bus.

_Are y-_

More letters appeared, but went further on his right forearm, so that his sleeve would cover it. He didn't care to pull them up so that he could read it. He didn't care.

His movement came to a sudden end as he was a few meters away from the bus station.

The man stood there, had placed his aviators on his hat and kept on writing on his arms, little notes here and there. He smiled. 

Dominique wanted to turn around so badly, he didn't wanted to meet him, but the spy was noticed. Their eyes met and Dominique found himself amazed by those beautiful ice-blue eyes. A look down to the Frenchmans hands, a look up to the eyes again and the other mans smile widened. Such a charming smile, Dominique thought suddendly and only could smile back.

"Lawrence." The man introduced himself and offered Dominique his hand.

"Dominique." He answered quietly, intrigued by the mans confidence. But he didn't shook his hand.

As his offer wasn't about to be taken, Lawrence awkwardly took his hand back and scratched his neck. "So-..." He wanted to start, but stopped to smile again. "Bloody hell, this came so suddendly."

"Yeah." The Frencheman commented shortly.

"So- you are..?"

"I don't hink so." 

This hit Lawrence and his smile dropped as he saw Dominique turning around to leave. "Hey- Hey! Wait a bloody second!" He quickly closed up. "Atleast tell me why!"

"Because I can't." Was hissed under the spy's breath. "You are **not** and will never be my _soulmate_!"

Dominique let out a gasp as Lawrence grabbed his arm. "Why? Because I'm a man? Not your type? You don't even know me yet!" 

The sudden yelling threw the Frenchman completely off and as he looked back at his face, at those blue eyes, Dominique saw how hurt the other man was. "I'm sorry." He whispered. With slow and gently movements he freed himself from the grip. The eye contact was still there.

"How long will you be here?" Lawrence asked.

"Wha-?"

"Will you stay here in Oakville or will you leave soon?"

"I will leave."

"To where?"

Dominique shook his head. "I can't tell you."

Finally completely free from any grip, he turned around and left the other man alone. Dominique noticed that he wasn't followed, but he found no relief. As he was a few blocks further, he leaned on a fence and dared to look at his hands again. Most notes were erased by now, some just quickly rubbed off and others completly gone. 

_I'm sorry_

Dominique closed his eyes.

_Santa Rosa_

This wasn't Lawrences work. He had written that down. In a split second decision, he also added a resaurant and a time.

_I'll be there_

Of course he would. Dominique nearly slouched the fence down, with a pounding heart. Of course he would. He was his soulmate after all.


End file.
